


Colorful Sky

by JustHally



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustHally/pseuds/JustHally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a med student, she's an artist. He dreams with being a great, important doctor, she only wants to show beauty the way she sees it. But most important, he's just not her type, is he? AU/AH</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorful Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I had a couple of days of daydreaming in class while I wrote this, and weird looks in buses and public places as I kept smiling like a fool , I really hope you like it.

**Colorful Sky**

 

Conversations cease and empty dishes, once holding fancy, expensive dinners, are picked up by the diligent waiter. Everyone looks pleased and sooner than she'd like, one by one, they start to get up, women excusing themselves to go to the restrooms while they wait for the check, men claiming how late it is, phones are pulled out of pockets and just like that, the peaceful, beautifully arranged dinner is over. They want to leave already. In a matter of a quick hour she'll be back in her dorm. Despite the shy start and the unknown faces, she had fun and enjoyed dinner as much as she could. She'd had ordered dessert, but apparently, med students don't need desserts. So she gets up too and walks slowly to the reception to get her coat back.

Her friends are blocking the wardrobe section of the restaurant, she can't get near the hangers but she doesn't need to. He has already grabbed it and is extending it in front of her so he can help her put it on. She smiles, not expecting his attention, and gets in the coat while he acts like a perfect gentleman. He's never been like this before, yes, he's been polite as he is with everyone else, but something's different tonight. Somehow she felt his eyes on her most of the time and though they were sitting in opposite sides of the big table he managed to talk to her every now and then.

How long is it that she knows him, again? She can't remember. Not that long for sure. But he's been a constant presence in her life lately, casually meeting in her favorite campus cafe and having some friends in common. He's always been nice, she thinks. And quickly dismisses the idea, is not like she likes this guy, he's just not her type, is he?

She takes a step away from him, just trying to be discrete and smiles, mumbling a "thank you" without meeting his gaze. His deep, intriguing, smart gaze, a low, cheeky voice says inside her head.

"Marvelous night" her friend says and kisses her in both cheeks in that Mediterranean style she's still not used to, but kind of gets along with. "See you on Monday, lovely" and without letting her answer, she walks off the place hanging from her boyfriend's arm. That's it, she was the only one, apart from him, she knew in the big group of med students and now she's on her own, or to say better, she's with him now.

Carlisle waves goodbye some of the people they had dinner with and smiles turning towards her. She's frozen, a wreck of nerves all of a sudden, while she realizes there's no one she knows left on the restaurant apart from him and is quite late to go home alone.

She's pondering the words in her mind, biting her lower lip while she tries to say goodbye as everyone else just did but he speaks first, lifting the weight off her shoulders.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" he asks getting a little closer than usual and she can't speak anymore.

He raises a single brow and smirks waiting for her reply, almost daring her to refuse. She won't lose that easy.

"Why not?" she hears herself saying and smiles as he opens the front door for her and they step into the chilly night and he leads her to the main street.

"Nothing better than a night like this" he mumbles and she fights the urge to snort at his statement.

"And why would you say so?" She asks, "I don't find anything special on a night like this"

He laughs out loud and she finds herself slightly hurt, is like he's mocking her and that's not funny at all.

"Why, you say. Well let me tell you, dear Esme, everything's special about a night like this"

She notices the delight that spreads inside her at the mere mention of her name on his lips and silently thanks the poor lighting of the streets because she knows she's blushed.

"Apart from being cold and ruthless on those without a jumper on?" she asks playfully and gets another loud, musical laugh. She's never heard something like this man's laugh before. Is like seeing colors on the simple sound of his laugh, like an amazing color composition. She wonders why.

"Indeed, I find the weather really appealing" he says in that silky voice that she hates so much. "Don't you feel the cold breeze caressing your skin?" he asks lowly and just as he speaks wind blows around her, its lovely, like a mother singing a subtle lullaby, but is not like she'll ever admit it. "Look at the gloomy city; the shadows that spread across the streets and make it look like an old movie, all dark and light. Now look a little up now, can you see the shining dots in downtown? It's like a piece of a constellation, like a bunch of stars thrown at earth so mortals can try to reach them. They contrast, light and darkness, land and sky, it's perfect."

His eyes are shining, and she'd never guessed he can talk like that, he can see beauty in way that embarrasses her as an artist.

"It is a nice night if you put it that way" she says, trying not to show how much his words have touched her.

He smiles crookedly and she finds herself hating his smile as much as his laugh. She hates the effect that smile has on her, she hates being helpless about it, because he's just not her type.

"I just love this city. The contrast between antique and modern, the warmth, and the way it can shine like a piece of gold. It's like walking through history. Have you noticed the way water cast the image of white buildings and red roofs during the day? How it seems like there's a twin city under the water? I love it. It's a little childish, but it always amazed me when I was little. Like a nicer version of Narcissus' tale."

She smiles.

He's reminded her of the reason she picked Florence to study art. Sometimes, being homesick clouds her goals and her desires, but she loves architecture here, she loves structure and history and now she loves all those things he loves too.

The sweetest silence surrounds them, the only thing there to listen are cars and honks and as they walk in a rarely lonely street the far noises sound like background music. She's deep in thought, so is he, wondering if it's alright to do what he's wanted to do since he met her. He's looking for the courage to make this chilly night a memorable one for both of them.

As he ponders his options, he takes a step to the side, getting closer to her, enough for her to feel the comfortable warmth that comes from his hand, almost touching hers. And she wants to take it; she wants to know if that warmth feels as good as it feels now. Maybe better. But she would never do it; after all, he's not exactly her type.

Without noticing, a smile draws slowly on her lips and her face lights up, color creeps through her cheeks making her look like an angel and that light pink is all he needs to encourage his inner desires and get a little closer, he reaches for her hand tangling his fingers with hers. She's freezing and his big, warm hand gives her comfort, a feeling of being secure she hasn't experienced since she left home.

He suddenly stops and she's lost in the perfect angles of his face, she knows she would make wonderful art pieces with him as an inspiration.

"Did you enjoy the dinner?" he asks serious and she knows he's noticed, even though she worked hard to look pleased and cheerful throughout the night, cause, somehow, he's a charming guy, top student while she's just another art student, nothing like the pretty girls wearing scrubs everyday with him.

"It was fine" she says trying to discard all those weird thoughts; is not like she'd want him to worry about her, of course not. He stares at her in silence, drilling holes on her face with his blue gaze. She's wondering what's in his head.

"I'm sorry" he mumbles at last, reaching up to put some loose locks of hair covering her eyes out of the way, slowly using his index to get the mischievous strands off her pretty face.

She's confused, why would he be sorry?

"its not your fault" she says feeling suddenly warm as she squeezes his hand "you're all med students, of course you'll talk about medicine, but I had a good time"

He smiles "would you let me make it up to you? Let me invite you a glass of wine"

She wants to say something clever, maybe tease him, but he's looking at her and the only thing she can think about is nodding.

"Good" he says and starts walking again.

They walk just a few more blocks and get to the entrance of a small building; they're still in the same expensive neighborhood of the restaurant and she can't help but make the obvious question.

"So this is where you live right?" She wonders why she imagined him living in a tiny room on campus. This place suits him instead, the old, elegant lines of the structure, like a piece of history stuck in present, always standing firmly. He's pulling the keys off his pocket and lets her in with a small smile.

Carlisle lives on the third floor, a large, elegant flat with marble floors and white walls and she's jealous. Does he live with anyone else in here? Is it a woman? A girlfriend?

He takes off his coat and helps her with hers, placing them on a perch.

She can't help but smile a little; he's a weird guy, a noble amongst commoners.

"Welcome to my place" he puts a warm hand on the lowest of her back and guides her through the small corridor to a large living room and she finds herself holding her breath in expectation.

Will his flat show his personality as his clothes did tonight? Or is it completely the opposite?

Is he messy? Is he clean?

The living room is huge, a large room with no walls between the dining table and the leather black couches, everything's white and black, very modern , in contrast with the evidently classic structure of the apartment. She looks around quickly, repairing slightly on every detail, finding fascinating the fact that a guy can decorate like that.

Again, she wonders, is he really the creator of this amazing decoration? Or was it his girlfriend who put every piece of furniture on its place so she'd love it tonight?

A hand on her shoulder reminds her of good manners and she turns back to look at him with what she hopes is a credibly smile, when all she wants to do is rip the answer off those pretty lips.

_Do you have a girlfriend? Does she live here? Why do you want me here?_

Not that she cares about it.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says lowly, getting away from her, "I'll look for a bottle and some glasses".

She only nods and tries to listen to his steps as he leaves, but that elegant walking way of him doesn't allow any noises, of course not.

Has he left already? She shrugs, it doesn't really matter, she's dying to explore the amazing place, the lovely design on the ceiling; the tiny, delicate lines of the marble floors; the hard cover book silently resting on the coffee table, Ho voglia di te it reads, and she hasn't heard about it, but again, she only speaks Italian cause she needs it every day; she actually hates it.

Is it a novel? It must be, no medicine book would ever title 'I want you'. It surprises her, the fact that he has other things in mind apart from anatomy and diseases, it thrills her beyond words.

Shaking her head at her stupid thoughts, Esme turns around and freezes in place; there , a few feet away from her, in a wide, white wall is her favorite piece of art ever.

Even thought she hasn't seen this particular piece in years, she still remembers every detail of it. Is a landscape, made entirely with a palette knife, a huge canal with bright water and a lovely bright, golden city on one side, a park in the other; there's a bridge between the two different landscapes, joining them in a single image, with light overflowing every detail, ordinary buildings taking shape between tender colorful strokes and becoming dreamlike silhouettes. And then, her favorite part of the painting, something she hasn't seen in any other artist, the sky, the most wonderful sky one can imagine or ever see in real life, a blast of color and magic that gives the sensation of being surrounded by millions of butterflies, or fairies, and makes anyone wish such a sky could exist.

She sights, she's loved that painting since she was 14 and her grandfather took her to an exposition. And is amazing to be so close to it now, almost eight years later, in the apartment of a weird med student she thought she knew.

Now she's not sure anymore.

This painting, this place, this night, shake all her believes, all the things she's worked so hard to think of him. She doesn't know if she likes him or not anymore, she doesn't remember which guy is her type anymore, or if Carlisle Cullen belongs to that group. She's not so sure he's the boring med student she thought he was.

She's completely confused.

Music starts playing and a husky woman's voice sings some blues. She shakes her head mentally, he's so old school. She feels him standing next to her but, somehow, she can't take her eyes off the painting because maybe it'll vanish like a bad dream.

"I'm glad you found something you like" he says handing her a glass full of red wine.

She takes a sip and finds it extremely tasty, which is odd, since she doesn't like wine that much.

"Afremov" she whispers solemnly. "I didn't think you like art" she admits.

"Well, I do, my mother has a gallery; she taught me a lot of art stuff hoping I'd become an artist and keep the legacy, she wanted me to inherit her gallery but you see, I'm kind of a disappointment" he says smiling, with a tone that tells her he doesn't mind it, but his eyes tell her the truth, he does care about it, but tries to keep it cool.

"I just love Afremov, this painting in particular is my favorite one" she says turning towards him, he's smiling.

"It's a lovely painting" he says drinking the rest of the wine with only one sip "almost as lovely as you"

Her heart jumps inside her chest, the look he just gave her made her knees weak and she's sure redness is spreading through her face under the power of his smile.

"Are you trying to seduce me mister?" she asks playfully.

"Indeed" he answers and she can't help but laugh; he's so charming.

He takes her glass and places it on the coffee table, taking her hand and pulling her close to him.

"Now that we're clear about my intentions, will you dance with me? I happen to love Nina Simone and you look just like the perfect partner"

She smiles, is he really expecting her to dance this old tune with him?

"I don't think I" she starts, but he hushes her tenderly.

"Just let yourself go, move according to the music, feel the notes of her voice, and let me lead you. I promise this will be better than that crappy music they put in night clubs"

She nods thinking he's gone crazy or something. How old is he? He must be twenty-three, twenty-five as much? But he seems so mature, he talks like a forty year old man, it makes her feel childish and clumsy, is so embarrassing.

He starts balancing her from side to side, placing both hands on her waist, staring at her eyes and making her melt with the heat of those blue eyes.

"I definitely won't believe you, this is like dancing in a wedding, no, no, is like dancing in a fiftieth year anniversary party"

He laughs that bloody laugh again, and once again, she hates the effect it has on her.

"Let me show you how wrong you are, close your eyes will you?" he says lowly.

She does so and lets him guide her, lets him get even closer, until he's wrapping his toned arms around her and she's only a few inches away from his warm chest.

"Listen carefully" he says above her head, "let her voice surround you, let the instruments wrap your mind with bliss"

It suddenly works, she can feel the amazing sensual sounds throughout her body, her soul, the lyrics are hitting her for the first time since the song started.

_I can hardly wait to hold you,_ _feel my arms around you_

_how long I have waited_

_waited just to love you,_

_now that I have found you don't ever go_

Without noticing, she places her hands on his chest and the thumping of his heart mixes with the beat of that incredible song he loves, and now she loves it too.

He's thrilled, there aren't words to describe how beautiful is the girl on his arms, how peaceful she looks with her eyes closed and that tender smile, or how amazing feel her hands on his chest, warming his lonely heart.

He's been waiting to spend some time like this for a while, always chasing her and receiving that bittersweet rejection. She's been one of the most difficult girls to chase after; she seems so oblivious to his attempts to get along with her; is like she really doesn't care about it, until tonight.

Tonight, she's finally getting involved, she's finally looking straight into his eye; tonight, she's sought conversation, she's smiling brighter than ever, she's blushing more than ever and he knows she likes him too. He's not alone in this anymore.

The song comes to an end and he stops without letting her go; she slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him with her eyes shining like honey colored gemstones.

"Much better, isn't it?"

She only nods, letting her hands travel down his stomach till she's hugging him too.

"I liked that song"

She's blushing.

"We can always dance another one, is not like someone will blackmail us with an embarrassing video of us dancing in an anniversary party right?" he says playing with a loose strand of hair on her back.

Somehow, she finds it funny, and makes the most beautiful sound he's heard; she's giggling first, then her lovely childlike laughter fills the room and takes him to heaven. He laughs too, when everything he wants is to grab her and make her giggle like that from the feeling of his tongue on her ear on her cleavage…

She puts her hands back on his shoulders, molding, this time, to his figure, in a proper dancing position. He pulls her tight against him and leads again, this time taking her hand to spin her around, getting glimpses of her dreamy smile. They laugh and dance, and smile.

They seem to smile a lot since they got here.

Before the third song ends, he turns her around one last time and pulls her into a tight hug with the last words clinging to the air, she's delighted, feeling so light and ethereal . He's drawing circles on the lowest part of her back and the feeling is amazing.

"Much better" she whispers looking up and marveling with his perfection.

He only kisses her and the last of her resolve goes missing with the feeling of his lips on hers, his arms around her, his hands working magic on her back, their tongues dancing together and taking her to heaven. However, as she rises upon desire clouds, getting close to the perfect sensation of his body against hers, something inside her pushes her down. It takes her to earth again, making her realize who she's kissing.

Her wounded pride kicks in and she finds the strength to break apart and push him off her.

He looks confused.

Really? Did he think she'd kiss him so gladly?

"What do you think you're doing?" she asks sounding as pissed as she can.

He smiles, so confident, so cocky.

Idiot, she thinks, though she can't forget those hands and those lips.

"That's a silly question, don't you think?" he replies fixing her messy bun.

She moves her head to the side, trying to get away from him. "Just, don't" she says all messed up.

There's complete silence now, he won't let her hair go, he's not moving, so isn't she; and she wants to step away, oh how much she'd love to do it, but her feet won't response.

"Esme" he finally whispers.

"Look at me, Esme" he says resting a hand on her cheek, making her face him. "Tell me you don't like me; tell me you don't like my kiss"

"I don't" she says, the lie obvious even to her.

He smiles, "right, now say it like you mean it".

She's furious, he's playing with her right on her face and feeling so superior.

Asshole!

Of course she doesn't like him, she didn't like that kiss. He. Is. Not. Her. Type.

Then, why can't she answer? Why did her statement sound like the biggest of lies?

And she knows it; it has always been a lie. Now it's clear and bright as the painting hanging behind her.

Carlisle caresses her cheeck with his wide palm and giggles quietly, her pretty Esme, so confused with her feelings she can't even talk.

"I see" he says getting serious, "I'd love to disagree with you, Esme, I do find you extremely adoring, that angel-like face of yours captivated me long ago. Now all I want to do when I see you is hold you, touch you, let the others see you're only mine"

She looks more confused than before.

"I like to guess what you're working on every time I see you; I look carefully at your hands hoping to find some charcoal traces, or a slight turpentine smell, so I'll know you were working with oil and I wonder what inspires you."

There's a knot on his throat, but he needs to tell her everything, he needs to let her know how much he cares.

"I also like to watch you drinking those vanilla lattes you like so much, the way you smile, just by having the cup in your hands, you make such beautiful gestures I just…"

He's finally speechless and she's stunned, does he notice all those little details about her?

"I… I don't know how to make you understand" he says helpless.

Esme is a mess while she looks at his eyes, she wants to believe him. But believing him right now would be dangerous.

He's about to talk again and she can't take that risk; he talking means she falling harder for him, so she leans up , standing on her toes to be eye level with him.

"Will you shut already?" she asks before she kisses him.

Carlisle's shocked at first, his body stiff, he was almost sure she'd leave him with his pathetic feelings, but instead, she's kissing him now.She wraps her arms around his neck and he doesn't need anything else; taking control of that wonderful mouth of hers, he shows her how much she likes him, how much she wants him.

He takes her to his favorite sofa, the one close to the large window and sits her there, looking at her deliciously swollen lips and dying to taste them again.

Not too fast, he reminds to himself, she still needs to understand she likes him as much as he likes her.

"I like the view from up here" she whispers looking out the window, the low lights giving her a golden glow, one side of her beautiful face in the darkness, one in the dim light.

"Me too" he manages to say while he's looking at her.

Without being able to restrain, he gets closer to her and caresses her long, beautiful neck, making her shiver and delighting on the fact he has such effects on her. He pushes the clip holding her hair open and looks how it falls down on a silky cascade behind her back.

"Carlisle" she says protesting.

Oh how wonderful to hear his name from the lips of a goddess, and with that sweet tone that shows him she's already surrendered to her feelings.

"I like it like this better" he says mimicking her playful tone "you look prettier this way"

She's blushing for the hundredth time tonight. Will she blush this lovely when he takes her to his bed?

He starts kissing her jaw, listening carefully to her slightly ragged breath. He gets to her ear and somehow, he's dying to know what will she do if he licks it, will she push him away? Will she like it?

Instead of licking it, he bites her playfully and she grasps his forearm tight, gifting him with that deliciously soft giggling. She gets away from him in an awkward angle and he's afraid she'll finally walk away. All she does is turn toward him, giving her back to the view and staring at him with bright, lusting eyes, mirroring his desire.

"Carlisle!" she says in a funny tone.

"What?"

She raises one brow and stares at him with a seductive smile. Neither of them knows who made the move, but they're kissing again, this time tangling their bodies on the sofa until they're breathless. He moans deep in his throat and she grips his hair tighter, he's already trying to get his hands on that amazing body, but she's wearing the most annoying, yet flattering dress.

"Wanna see the rest of my flat?" he asks gasping when they break apart.

"Do you have more paintings?" she replies with that playful brow raised.

He laughs

"You'll have to discover if I do"

Taking her hand, he leads her past the kitchen and a guest's bathroom to a really nice studio. Tones of books rest on shelves from floor to ceiling, covering two of the three walls and behind a desk with a laptop and some scattered papers, is another large window with a nice view.

She lets his hand go and walks around the small studio looking carefully at his books, mostly medicine encyclopedias and essays, some novels in a corner. It seems like he really likes reading, and she find pleasant to have something in common.

When she looks at his desk, past the notes she'd never understand completely and some pencils, she notices something that makes her heart squeeze. There, in the further corner of the large desk, is a picture of a young Carlisle sitting by an easel with his cute little face all stained with different colors and a blue painting apron. He looks so happy and she can't help but smile, it reminds her of her, several years ago, when her grandpa taught her how to draw.

"There are no paintings here" she pouts, when all she wants is to run towards him and touch him, hug him, kiss him.

He smiles and reaches for her cheek across the desk, sweetness overflowing his eyes.

"There's still one room, gorgeous" he says giving her a quick peck on the lips and walking to the door.

She follows, what else can she do? He's everything she sees right now, something pulls her towards him now, she just can't resist to that charm anymore.

Carlisle's room is bigger than the studio, probably twice its size. There's a really nice stereo close to the window and a large TV hanging on the wall. She takes a single step inside and sees him leaning against his closet.

She can't take her eyes off him, has he always been this sexy? Or is it the lights hitting him from above making his eyes brighter than ever?

He catches the light so beautifully; he could be one of Michelangelo's sculptures, with his perfect face and his perfect naked figure. An image of him posing as in The Creation of Adam crosses her mind and she blushes bright red.

He laughs quietly and his eyes drift towards something on his right. She follows his gaze and gasps in surprise.

"Another Afremov" she whispers in awe, walking to the side of his huge bed and taking a closer look at the marvelous piece.

This painting is another amazing colorful creation, with thousand of bright strokes mixing to shape a beautiful woman's silhouette lying lazily on her back with her head turned to the side, hiding her face from the viewer.

Carlisle stares at his gorgeous guest from behind, she's glowing with happiness while looking at his favorite painting and he can't believe just how lucky he is.

Years ago, he visited his mother's gallery and discovered this amazing piece; he secretly worked part time jobs until he got the ridiculous amount of money his mother asked for the rather small painting.

"I bought this one" he says lowly on her ear. When did he walk to her?

She leans a little bit against him, finally giving her permission to be seduced, and he kisses the crook of her neck resting his hands on her slender shoulders.

"You know, I've always wanted to see her face, I used to admire my purchase and wonder which face I would see if she ever turned around".

Esme leans completely on his chest and looks up meeting his gaze.

"It kind of has that effect" she points out smiling. Can't she see the effect she's having on him? Can't she feel it? Cause she's killing him.

He turns her around, that way he won't humiliate himself more than necessary. Has she noticed his hard-on already?

"I'd like her to have your face" he whispers close to her lips.

She closes the small distance between them and kisses him slowly, molding her body to his and making him moan helpless.

When she brakes the kiss, he's dying to rip that dress off her body and just lay her down on his bed and kiss her till she's screaming her release.

"Do you tell that to every girl you bring to bed?" she asks with an arched brow.

He tries not to laugh.

"Believe it or not, you're the first one" he says.

She's looking at him with some sexy fierceness he hasn't seen on her before.

"Whatever", she mumbles, almost groans, before pulling him closer again; kissing him without anything else in mind but the desire that burns inside her.

He's in heaven too, one thing is to kiss her, but the fact that she's done the first move this time can't compare to anything else, he's at her feet, there's nothing he wouldn't do for her. She owns him right now, and as long as she keeps kissing him this way, he'll be willing to die for her.

Carlisle doesn't understand completely how this happened, how she got in his heart so fast, how he can't imagine his life without a girl named Esme in it.

He doesn't care either.

Deepening the kiss he sits on his bed, placing her between his open legs and marveling with this girl's amazing curves.

"I could kiss you forever" he says breathless.

She laughs making his crotch tighten with the sensual sounds. He wants her so badly.

"I bet you'd get tired"

_No way_

He kisses her again this time reaching up to unfasten the spine length zipper that will give him access to her body. She doesn't protest and he's over the moon knowing she's finally accepted her feelings.

He chooses to torture himself by getting her undressed the slowest he can without stopping the kiss.

She's shivering under his touch slightly moaning in his mouth.

They break apart when his hand reaches the end of the zipper. She takes a step back and lets the dress fall at her feet; a burgundy cascade of fabric pooling on the floor; revealing the marvelous body of a cream skinned goddess.

His eyes follow the path of her dress, taking a look of her incredible legs and drifting back to her chest, where the most incredible pair of breasts rest incased on a black lace bra.

She steps away of the dress and goes back to the warmth of his legs, where he grabs her waist and leans forward, placing soft kisses on her flat stomach he looks up, meeting her gaze and what she sees there makes all her doubts disappear.

He won't hurt her, she's sure now.

He makes her sit, straddling his lap, and kisses her neck while his hands work behind her back, getting rid of her bra. She helps him, letting her arms down so he can toss the sexy yet annoying piece of underwear somewhere behind her and gasps when his lips close around her, already hard, nipple.

She can't do anything; just let herself get lost in the feeling of this man's lips on her breasts, his hands playing with the hem of her thong driving her crazy.

Without noticing, Esme unbuttons his shirt and finds herself almost drooling with the view of his toned chest, abs slightly tightened. Is better than she imagined, fuck Michelangelo, he's Adonis himself.

He looks at her face, a shy smile playing on the edge of her lips and the desire growing in the depth of her beautiful brown eyes. She's lost in the sight of his torso, tracing the lines of his stomach with curious fingers. She traces the dark blond line of hair that gets lost under his jeans; playing with the hem and making him get harder with expectation.

She looks up at him, smiling widely while she unbuttons his pants, palming him through his boxers.

Ah, she's killing him.

This is what she does to him.

If her hand feels this good with his clothes on, he can only start imagining what it will feel without them.

She drowns his increasing moan with a slow, hot kiss, showing him with her tongue what he should do to her body and he just can't stand it anymore.

Nibbling her lower lip tenderly, he rolls till he's on top of her and gets up enough to get rid of his jeans and boxers without taking his eyes off her.

She smiles, waiting for him to join her on his bed, looking hotter than ever, cheeks slightly blushed, legs sprawled, breasts perky, rising with every breathe in. Getting closer, he places a hand on the soft mattress the other one on her waist, taking a look at her perfect body, her full curves; she's rounded where it should be, gracefully flat in the right places, and soft everywhere he touches.

Just perfection.

"So beautiful" he says tracing the lines of her chest, the side of her long, elegant neck, her full lips.

She bites his finger playfully and he burns inside. She's on fire too, all she can think about is he inside her, filling her and thrusting hard.

"We're playing like that huh?" he says positioning completely on top of her, biting her earlobe and nibbling sweetly at her neck, making her twitch and giggle uncontrollably.

He laughs too, getting drunk with the sweetness of her laugher. He's fallen completely for her.

Their eyes meet and suddenly, all laugh is forgotten, they face each other, accepting what has brought them to this precious moment. She starts feeling dizzy from the intensity of those blue eyes that seem to shine so bright even under the dim light and heat spreads once again through her body, resting on that place that throbs for his touch, his caresses.

He seems to notice, and pulls her lacy thong down, past her knees and her sexy heels. Tracing her slender tights with his tongue, he can't wait to taste her, to make her scream his name, only his.

And she does, not a scream, but the sexiest moan he's ever heard, the mere mention of his name in that tone while she comes makes him burst on fire; she tastes amazing, but he's sure she must feel even better, and as much as he'd like to give her another orgasm with his mouth, he wants to feel her around. He wants to kiss those amazing breasts again.

His butterfly kisses make her shiver and her fist closes on his hair, giving him the order to continue which; of course, he's more than willing to obey. He kisses every inch of her torso and comes to her beautiful lips, displaying a lovely smile, only for him.

She raises one hand, so little, yet so great, an artist's most precious tool, to cup his cheek and he leans to her touch, the softness of her skin, that turpentine smell she carries with such grace surrounding him, marking him as hers.

There's something else apart from desire in those honey eyes. Is it awe? Is it love? How he'd like it to be love.

"What is I that I can't think straight when you're around? She asks, the shadow of a smile still playing with her lips.

He's speechless

"I can't find a way to push you away; I don't know how to avoid you anymore"

Then don't, he thinks leaning down to kiss her, not sure if he said it out loud.

She lets a law whimper escape from her throat urging him to deepen the kiss and making him roll with her, letting her straddle his lap.

She kisses his chest, feeling the fast thumping of his heart under her lips; he's teasing her clit deliciously, making her rub against his fingers shamelessly until both of them can't stand it anymore.

She rises on top of him, placing herself against that part of him that's almost screaming for her. and when he's in, something between them clicks and they don't exist before this moment; she's encasing him, keeping him safe and warm while he's filling her, making her complete.

As she starts moving slowly, with him meeting every thrust softly, they become the brush of an artist, they're art themselves, using this bed as canvas, where they can give color and shape to the passion they share; every movement is a stroke of color. Is it blue? Could it be red?

They don't know.

What's the color of passion, after all?

A very beautiful color at least, or every color at the same time.

Their eyes closed, their hands entwined; their hearths beating in sync, creating a beautiful song only they can feel and hear. They sail through the flow of desire they've created, painting their masterpiece with their bodies.

He touches her everywhere and nowhere at once, she kisses him sweetly and wildly every time; they're rush and calm; subtlety and boldness.

This is an experience none of them has lived before, as if they were dead before this moment alone. Apart, they're nothing, but together, like this, joined as a single silhouette, they're everything.

She rides him seeking for her climax, taking him with her in a slow torture trip, the sweetest he could ever ask for; she's moving slowly, rushing a little bit whenever he asks her silently, she can understand him that well, and he helps her getting to the top of that magic mountain they're both pursuing , with experienced, loving fingers.

And when she's finally there, her voice rising to a deliciously sexy moan, her face turned to the ceiling, eyes closed, a world of color explodes inside her and she finds it, the colorful sky she's dreamed with since she saw Afremov's art for the very first time.

Strokes of bright, wonderful colors creating her personal heaven behind her closed eyelids and he's the one. So much she knows, of course he's not her type, cause he's unique, he's the one for her and there's nothing else she cares about, nothing else she would prefer when she can have him just for her.

Not if he can take her back to that colorful sky of passion.

He follows her right after and they both lie tangled under their own creation, their paradise, floating down slowly and being surrounded by the greatest slumber.

They hug each other peacefully for a long time, minutes? Even hours? It doesn't really matter; she's sprawled on top of him, her leg resting between his, a protective arm across his chest, his hand playing with her caramel curls.

"It must be pretty late" Esme whispers, there's no room for loud spoken words right now, it would break the love spell they've brought on them, "I should probably go".

She sounds sad about leaving, and his heart jumps happily inside his chest with that thought, he tightens his grip on her, his head raising enough to kiss her temple.

"There's no class tomorrow, its Sunday" Carlisle says, and that's all she needs to hear to let the music playing far away, in the living room, lull her to a peaceful sleep with his arms around her and the colorful sky still hanging above them in their dreams.

**la Fine**

**Author's Note:**

> For those who kept wondering who the ... is Afremov
> 
> Leonid Afremov is a really awesome Belarusian painter, which I happen to love
> 
> Esme's favorite painting is actually Afremov's Bridge Over Dreams painting
> 
> Carlile's favorite is called Flow of Love
> 
> I'm on twitter as @Hallywell12


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